Glutton for punishment
by A.Door
Summary: A small ficlet looking into Emma's relationship with food and Regina's relationship with Snow's food. Started off as headcanon, came up with this and, I decided to share.


**Authors note:** This started as a random head canon and then, this happened. I suppose it could be situated in between season 3 and 4?

* * *

This is the third time that Regina's been invited to the Charming's dwellings for dinner and, it still sets her on edge.

Her hesitation isn't stemmed from the belief that she will say something that will break the fragility of the sudden harmony or, " _family unit"_ as Snow describes it. Nor is she overtly concerned about the awkwardness that will surely entail throughout the evening.

No, the root of Regina's apprehension is derived from something else entirely.

Snow White's "culinary skills".

Now, although Regina would never admit it out loud, she knows for a fact that Snow White can cook a fairly decent meal when provided the opportunity. And yet, for some obscure reason, every time Regina has attended dinner, Snow had insisted on concocting meals based upon "something she saw whilst watching Martha Stewart."

Regina had tried, oh how she tried, to politely decline, however there is a limit to how many bluebirds with attached messages on their legs, a powerful sorceress once formerly known as the Evil Queen can take.

She had also been heavily subjected to her sons and his other mother's pleas for her to join them, "Unity in Adversity," as they had called it.

Therefore, under the guise of concord and peace and, certainly not loneliness or smothering, she had relented, their simultaneous megawatt smiles had been an added bonus.

She looks down at the plate that holds warm brown lumps masquerading as food.

Meatloaf, Snow had deemed it.

Regina's pretty sure that it's a prop from The Blob if not, the alien Blob itself. She admonishes herself for that pop culture reference, that is the last time she allows Emma to pick films on movie night at her household.

She looks around the table, Charming is as green as the dragons he used to slay, Henry looks suspiciously at the meal as if it were another cursed apple turnover and baby Neal is almost in the throes of a tantrum.

She had always liked their latest spawn.

And, of course Snow is oblivious that she is basically poisoning her family sans magic.

She rolls her eyes, and people called _her_ the Evil Queen.

She had taken a few bites and chased it with a generous sip of wine which had negated the taste. Though, strangely there was an aftertaste of blueberries with the texture of sawdust.

"Emma, would you like some more?" Snow asks, beaming at the only person who seems to be enjoying her creation.

The woman in question chews thoughtfully for a moment, swallows and then smiles, "Sure mom," she replies.

And Regina can't help but stare incredulously at the blonde as she finishes her plate to make room for another serving. Albeit, the blonde doesn't attack the plate with the same amount of gusto as the first but, the woman is determined nonetheless.

"Ma, did you lose your tastebuds?" she quietly hears from their son.

She looks over at Henry, their poor, poor son who will no doubt eat something sugary before bedtime as compensation for eating more vegetables than necessary tonight.

And, even though she should berate him for the rudeness, she can't help but chuckle lowly under her breath, he is definitely her son.

"You don't know how good you have it, kid," she hears in reply. If she were to analyse the tone more closely, she would have noticed the slight groan to her woman's words.

There's something about the sentence that resonates with Regina however, and it isn't until much later does she realise why that is.

She looks down at her plate again and believes that she has masticated enough to declare that she is full. It's not defeat; she just had a big lunch. A really big lunch.

When Baby Neal starts to loudly fuss, she's the first person to comfort him, silently thanking the wonderful child for providing her an excuse to leave the table. He takes after his sister as Saviour in that regard.

As she comforts him, she takes a solemn look at the food that lays motionless on the table and, it isn't the first time tonight where she truly believes that she's being assassinated.

* * *

After her ordeal, she had bid a stiff goodnight to the Charming's and her son, seeing as it was Emma's night with Henry, she had gone home to an empty house.

She's lying in bed, awaiting the inevitable practise of death when she hears a high pitched noise emitting from her phone.

As soon as she recognises that damn Hamster Dance tune that Emma had assigned to her son's calls, she retrieves it from her dresser.

"Henry? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Hey Mom, I'm fine but, Emma's not," her son replies gently, knowing that his mother would be alarmed at the late night call.

That information however, does not quell her concern, "Miss Swan? What's happened? Is she ok?"

"She's fine mom. Well, no, not really, she's kind of puking her guts out at the moment and, I don't really know what to do," he replies.

She calms her beating heart and processes her son's words, "Henry, I'm sure that Emma is perfectly able to take care of herself, despite my comments in the past, she is an adult."

"Yeah, I know, but, she's been sick ever since we got home from Grandma's. Can you please just come over and make sure that she's ok?"

She rubs her forehead, "I'll be over in ten minutes and Henry? You better be in bed by the time I get there," it's an empty threat but, it's the best mothering she can do at such a distance.

She hears the relief in his voice when he replies, "Thanks mom, love you."

"I love you too and Henry? You were right to call me; I'm here whenever you need me."

"I know."

She disconnects the call and removes herself from her bed. In lieu of changing into proper attire, she decides to cover the grey slip that she's currently adorning. She looks at herself in the mirror to pat down any arrant hairs and, with a simple nod of the head she poofs over to Emma Swan's house in a puff of purple smoke.

Before Swan hunting, she spends a few moments with her son to ease his concerns and properly place him to bed and, with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to take care of his other mother she makes a move to the bathroom.

As she manoeuvres her way around the house, she can't help but shiver, no matter how many times she's been there, a perpetual cold had always permeated from somewhere.

She makes her way to her location and finding the door locked she knocks three times.

"Miss Swan, are you in there?" she asks a hoarsely.

She thinks she hears a groan and then a groggy, "R'gina?"

"Yes," she answers back.

"What are you doing here?"

She crosses her arms and leans against the doorjamb, "Miss Swan, our son is under the impression that you are trying to purge your organs from your body."

When she receives silence, she presses an ear to the door and, it isn't until she hears a crash and a stifled, 'Shit,' does she start to frown.

"That's it, I'm coming in."

"No."

"Yes. I am," she states firmly.

"No."

Regina glares at the door and a strange sense of déjà vu washes over her, it hadn't been funny when Henry had done this to her when he was ten and, it's certainly not humorous now.

"That wasn't a request, Miss Swan," and then, before waiting for a response, she puffs into the bathroom.

Emma blinks once and then twice to make sure that the Regina shaped vision in her bathroom is real.

"Eugh, get out," she moans, though, the order is made less resolute when she's basically sprawled in the bath tub, in a bra and flannelette pants.

' _What is it with this woman and flannelette?'_ Regina thinks to herself.

Emma groans pathetically causing Regina to disregard the blonde's state of undress and carefully approach her. She feels like a lion tamer.

She lifts a hand to the woman's forehead, her cool touch a welcoming reprieve for Emma, "You're burning up," she murmurs.

Emma's eyes are glassy and her face has taken an ashen complexion, no doubt an effect of her vomiting, it is a stark contrast to the woman that she's used to, it almost humbles Regina to see the Saviour in such a state.

Regina walks over to the faucet, fills a cup with water and then hands it to the blonde, "Rinse your mouth out," she directs gently.

She knows that her voice has taken that soft motherly tone usually reserved for Henry, if Emma's bemused expression is any indication.

As Emma slowly follows her orders, she takes a towel, dampens it with cool water, sits at the edge of the tub and then begins to wipe whatever remnants of food and bile are on the blonde.

She can hear Emma's grunt of disapproval as well as feel the embarrassment on the other's skin.

"Regina, you really, really don't need to do this," Emma protests.

Regina just continues her tender scrubbing, keeping her indifferent façade to cleaning her former nemesis' offspring. She knows that the blonde is becoming increasingly distressed however; she promised Henry that she would do anything within her power to help Emma and, if she were truly honest, she was a little worried.

She had thought that the blonde would put up more a battle towards her presence. It was either she was too tired to really complain or, she didn't mind Regina's nursing.

She internally scoffs and justifies her sentimentality on her son's influence.

"Need I ask how you got into this state?" she asks ignoring Emma's objection.

As she's wiping Emma's arm which, is surprisingly all muscle, she hears a mumbled response, causing her to pause for a moment and lift an eyebrow.

"Enunciate Miss. Swan."

Her Sheriff just takes a deep breath and huffs out an, "I ate too much."

Regina clicks her tongue in reproach, she had hypothesized that that was the case, "And just why, did you think gorging yourself on Snow's food was a good idea? I had the meatloaf, it was downright dreadful."

"No, be honest, tell me what you really thought of my mother's cooking," Emma deadpans.

After a pointed look, she just shrugs intelligibly, "She kept on offering it to me and well, waste not want not and all that."

The disbelief on Regina's face is palpable, "Surely you're not that much of a glutton for punishment."

Emma just scowls at her, "Did you seriously just make a pun?"

"Are you trying to deflect?"

In response Emma just rolls her eyes, "Look, just, forget it, you wouldn't understand," she tries to dismiss.

Regina scoffs and continues her ministrations and, although Emma is still uncomfortable with the entire situation, she finds herself lost in the feeling of being softly massaged. She hadn't experienced much tenderness in her life but, for a moment she can believe that this, right here is the epitome of it.

Regina doesn't ask where Hook is, mostly because she doesn't really care but, also because her ward at the moment takes precedence.

When Regina's finished her treatment on Emma's body, she places the towel in the wash basket and resumes her seat on the edge of the bath tub.

"Try me," Regina challenges, resuming their earlier conversation and crossing one leg over the other.

Emma sighs, knowing that this is another fight that she'll never win and, frankly, she's just too tired. She sits up, leans against the bath tub, she refuses to look at Regina and beings to pick at the edge of the bathmat.

"The foster system, you just had to adjust real quickly ok?" she states a little bitterly.

Regina's eyes soften at the display whilst a wave of guilt inexplicably disperses through her, before she can reply, Emma continues.

"You either ate right then and there or, you don't eat at all y'know? And then, of course there's the added pressure of trying to please the foster parents so, I just, kind of learnt to eat and be grateful. Regardless of what was put in front of me," Emma explains.

Regina still doesn't really understand, surely Emma knows that she has choices now but then, habits are difficult to break. She thinks this whilst consciously refusing to play with the edges of her hair, a trait her mother had always abhorred. Before she can voice her thoughts she hears the softest whisper.

"What if they stop caring?"

Regina didn't need clarification as to who _they_ were.

It is within this admission that Regina finally sees Emma's vulnerability in its entirety. She witnesses the culmination of a woman whom, for so many decades thought herself worthless, unloved, abandoned, a perpetual orphan. It was something that she had observed during their time in Neverland but, had never had the time address. Not with the impending dooms that was always a breath away from their lives.

And, now that she can think about it, she remembers Emma's urgency at dinner; she remembers how the blonde would always stuff her face and, order the most dreadful meals. She remembers Emma's thankfulness towards her cooking, the blonde thanking her at least four times for the meal and also her insistence on hand washing the dishes when she had a perfectly functioning dishwasher.

All these little acts were an exertion of Emma's agency of independency whilst, at the same time a desperation to connect with the people around her.

"Oh Emma," she sighs.

The woman in question just looks at her with watery eyes and a quiet sniffle, seeking comfort but never asking, never allowing herself to ask for something that should always be given.

And really, what kind of monster would Regina be if she didn't at least try.

She places a hand on the other's shoulder and squeezes, and hopes that it conveys all the sincerity that she legitimately feels. Their feelings for each other are conveyed in actions, in looks and in quick passing touches.

But, when Emma whimpers something within Regina breaks and, from somewhere within herself, she gains the courage to do the one thing that they have unofficially always refused to do.

She yanks Emma towards her body and hugs her.

"They won't stop," she whispers, ignoring how tense the blonde has suddenly become, "And, even if they do, I can promise you that Henry will never stop caring, that I will never stop caring about you," and she knows that this is the truth.

Usually, Regina isn't one to promise things, she figures that she'll inevitably break them so, rather than provide the potential for disappointment, she just, refuses to make them. Henry notwithstanding. But Emma, as per usual is the exception because this promise, something that she hasn't done in so many years, is one she knows she'll keep.

She feels it in the depths of her bones; she feels it in her marred heart where the promise of young love taken away far too soon remains. And, it feels like her devotion to always protect and love their son.

Emma tentatively returns the hug and nods into the crook of her neck, whether or not she believes her words, Regina isn't sure.

A few moments pass, bringing with it an air of awkwardness seeing as, neither one had really been accustomed to the ritual of embracing. Moreover, Regina is becoming acutely aware just how naked Emma is whereas Emma's body is pushing to near exhaustion.

When Regina starts to feel Emma slump, she takes the initiative to move first, she clears her throat and releases her hold.

"Let's get you to bed Miss. Swan."

"Yeah, good idea."

She helps Emma stand and they gingerly walk to the master bedroom.

Emma ungracefully falls face first onto her bed, the floorboards creaking from the abrupt weight. Regina just chuckles at the childish display and to rid herself of the intensity that she feels.

She looks around the room and comes to the conclusion that messiness is an unfortunate genetic disposition.

And then, her eyes fall on a white knitted baby blanket with purple trimming on a chair.

She retrieves it and lays it upon Emma's body.

"Rest now," she murmurs, a little astonished at her own display.

She conjures a bottle of water on Emma's nightstand and, fleetingly recognises a picture frame with herself, Henry and Emma on it.

She'll think about that information later.

She's about to go into the den to watch over the occupants of the house for the night when she hears Emma faintly calling her name.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

Regina knows that tonight doesn't fix or reverse years of emotional scarring but, it can be a start.

She also knows that she should leave but the desire to linger for just a moment longer overrides any rational thought. She tiptoes to the bed, snugs the blanket more securely around the blonde's form and clears the hairs from her face.

"I'll be in the den if you need me," she states and then, she will later justify this as habit but, she kisses the blonde on the forehead.

She leaves the door open, like a metaphor for whatever future may come.

* * *

It's another week before there's another dinner at the Charming household and nothing really has changed between Emma and herself.

Not that she had expected it.

"Emma, would you like some of this avocado salad?" Snow asks with a smile on her face.

Emma shifts a little in her seat, "Actually, umm, no thank you."

Regina is pretty sure that the whole world has stopped at that moment, as all eyes watch Emma curiously.

"Oh?" Snow questions.

"Yeah, I'm actually allergic to avocado," Emma admits a little sheepishly.

Snow frowns, "You've never mentioned that, I'm sure that you've had some before."

She had, back when Mary Margaret was on that health kick when they were just roommates, she can feel her throat itching from the memory.

Regina notices the blondes knuckles turning white from strangling the fork she's holding so, she intervenes with the finesse of a diplomatic representative, "Snow, I was wondering if you'd like to learn a few recipes from me?"

It isn't what she really wanted to say but, it'll do she supposes.

Snow looks at her startled and Regina holds down the scoff that is begging to be released.

"Really?" she asks, a little in awe.

"Yes."

Later on, as she's continuing her conversation with Snow, she feels something on her thigh.

She subtly looks at Emma and, in response Emma's hand timidly squeezes once in thanks.

It stays there for the rest of the night.

This is now the fourth time that Regina's been invited to the Charming's dwellings for dinner but, it is the last time that she is on edge.

Sometimes change just happens because as she looks around the table, at the Charming's, Henry and Emma, she realises that it's beginning to feel a lot like a home that she'd never imagined.

Though, Snow's culinary skills are still terrible.

* * *

 **Congratulations for making it to the end of this semi-pointless narrative! Thank you for reading.**


End file.
